


Silver and Ash

by Heather_Night



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wolves, Bondage, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Military, Poisoning, Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-24 04:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13205934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Stiles had to report for duty tomorrow but tonight he craved action of a different sort.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The hurt/comfort prompt for this story was poisoning. Out of the twenty-five stories I wrote for this bingo card this is one of two favorites. It features the non traditional pairing of Chris and Stiles but this couple has really grown on me and I think it shows.
> 
> My tagging skills leave a lot to be desired so if you think I need to update them please let me know. Two things to keep in mind before you read this, please...
> 
> \- When I say the rating is Explicit I really mean it, at least I don't think I could write sex scenes that are more explicit but that's just one component of the plot, and then there's the language, and  
> \- Scott is not what I consider to be a bad friend in this story but he was easily manipulated in the past which caused problems (not sure of the appropriate tagging convention there)

Stiles had to report for duty tomorrow but tonight he craved action of a different sort.

The Beacon was busy, just like Danny had described it. Stiles moved across the crowded floor and waited in line at the bar to place his drink order. There was a nice mix of ages here, just as Danny had promised. Stiles could tell this was a civilian bar; the non-regulation hairstyles were his first clue.

Of course Stiles’s own hair was non-regulation at the moment. He’d returned from his last assignment two days ago and hadn’t had time to get it fixed so the bangs swooped across his forehead. It didn’t inhibit him looking through his scope clearly so it didn’t rise to a priority. 

Nope, priority one right now was finding someone, preferably a guy—a mature guy—who could manhandle him and take him out of his own headspace, and getting busy with him. He’d made time to take care of the hair growth in other places on his body though. 

He swept his hand through his bangs impatiently but space suddenly parted before him and he swooped forward to claim a spot at the end of the cherry wood bar.

Someone whooped a loud greeting at him. “Hey, Stiles. Nice to see you!”

Danny Māhealani was the best hacker Stiles knew and one helluva nice guy, too. They’d hung out a little during high school but hadn’t really become friends until they’d bumped into each other in San Francisco at a gay bar. Well, Danny was as much of a friend as Stiles had these days. He moved around so much, and got passed around between divisions and units as his skills were needed, that he rarely had free time.

He also didn’t like to form close attachments since the people around him either seemed to die or disappear.

Tonight he had that rare evening without plans and he aimed to make the most of it and forget about his sorry past.

“Hey, Danny. Is this place always this busy?” Stiles asked as he cast around, noticing the people continuing to pile into the bar.

“Nah, we’re having a $2 rail drink special until 9 p.m. and everyone is cheap.” Danny rolled his eyes. 

Danny was a gifted programmer but working on his masters wasn’t cheap so he picked up bartending shifts when he could. He made a fortune in tips, which Stiles didn’t doubt; every time the man flashed his dimples even Stiles’s insides melted a little despite the fact Stiles definitely gravitated toward a different physical type.

Danny’s hands continued to move even as they made small talk. He set a drink on a coaster in front of Stiles. “Fireball whiskey and ginger ale, on me.”

“Dude, you even gave me a cherry!” Stiles exclaimed. He loved cherries soaked in alcohol. He pulled it out of the drink and tugged the fleshy fruit from the stem. “Thanks. I’ll buy you a drink when you get off.”

“Stiles, I’m pretty sure you’ll get off before I do,” Danny teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

Stiles rolled his eyes at the terrible pun but he hoped Danny was right. “Hey, can I have another cherry? I want to practice tying the stem. Get limbered up for later.” 

Someone farther down the bar clambered for Danny’s attention. His friend pointed downward to an area on his side of the bar. “They’re right on this shelf, help yourself.” 

Stiles shrugged. He’d been kidding but now tying a cherry stem in a knot with just his tongue and teeth seemed like a fun way to pass the time and get his flirt on.

The bar was completely enclosed with no way to duck beneath it so that left going over. Stiles had long limbs so he was pretty sure he could reach the cherries just by leaning over the bar. Setting his drink to the side, Stiles hiked himself up on the bar as though he was emerging out of the water onto the side of a pool. He shimmied forward until he could reach beneath the edge of the bar, his hand fishing for the bin of cherries. His fingertips brushed the edge of a container. He needed to reach a little farther. Hopefully no one was standing right behind him otherwise he was liable to kick them in the face with a flailing leg. Although Stiles liked to play rough that wasn’t exactly how he wanted to start out his evening.

Shifting his hips left and then right, Stiles inched toward the edge of the bar. He’d be able to do a handstand on the other side at this rate. He was coming away with more than one cherry that was for damn sure.

-0-

Chris surveyed his options as he moved toward the bar. He catalogued the welcoming smiles and come hither looks but so far none of them were doing it for him. So far no one seemed like they could withstand what he needed tonight.

A drink was definitely called for so Chris waited until there was an opening in front of the bar. As the sea of people parted, Chris swallowed a gasp; a pert ass, legs kicking softly, was perched on the bar top. The man’s torso was out of view but his lower half was attention getting.

Nicely fitted jeans skimmed long, lean legs. The thighs bulged nicely leading to the curved ass. The shirt had hiked up so Chris could see the slim waist. If the top matched the bottom half, and the guy was as athletic as he seemed, Chris might’ve found his partner for the night.

Those enticing legs gave a frantic kick and Chris heard a yelp as the guy slid forward. Darting forward, Chris grabbed ahold of narrow hips, halting the descent.

“Thank you!” The voice was pitched low. It was husky. 

Chris couldn’t wait to see the front of this guy.

“Can I give you a hand up?” Chris offered, his hands still settled on denim-covered hips. An expanse of bare skin was showing due to the way the guy’s white t-shirt had rucked up and Chris had to work hard not to smooth his thumbs over the flesh.

“Please.” Yes, the low and husky response did something to Chris’s dick.

Chris shifted his hands higher, clasping the indent of an exceptionally trim waist to get a better grip. It didn’t take much effort before the guy was sliding in reverse. He was lithe and light and Chris might have exerted more effort than was needed because the body he was holding shot backward with more oomph than Chris had expected.

Using his own body as a backstop, Chris guided the guy against him until his crotch cradled the other’s firm ass. They were of the same height and Chris wanted to reach around, maybe pinch the tight buds of the guy’s nipples. Maybe press the palm of his hand against the other guy’s dick and see if they were on the same page.

The guy in his arms turned his head and smiled before issuing a sweet thank you. There was a spark of recognition in his face that made Chris think he didn’t mind the age disparity. The way he moistened his lips and left them parted. The way he dipped his eyelids downward, giving Chris a coy look.

Chris temporarily lost his ability to speak. This guy was beyond attractive. He had silky looking brown hair, bangs flopping near pretty brown eyes, delightful beauty marks splattered across his pale skin. It was the bow shaped pink lips curving into a smile that sealed the deal. Chris imagined those lips wrapped around his—

The guy held something up. “Cherry?” It was a bin filled with, yes, cocktail cherries.

“I’ll pass.” Chris rumbled back in response. He was having a hard time getting his brain and mouth to work; all of his energy seemed to be pooled below his belt.

Chris realized he was still pressed tightly against the other man and the other man didn’t seem to mind. In fact if anything the guy shifted his weight back a little more, leaning into Chris’s body, the muscular ass seeking friction against Chris’s interested dick. 

The guy—Chris decided he needed something better than _the guy_ , he needed a nickname—fluttered his eyelashes in a flirtatious move that tickled Chris’s sense of humor.

Those eyes, big and brown. They reminded Chris of a character in one of those cartoons Allison used to watch when she was a kid. Pokémon? The human was named Ash and he had dark hair and brown eyes.

Ash picked up a cherry by the stem and popped it in his mouth. He chewed a few times and swallowed, his throat moving up and down, mesmerizing Chris as he imagined that throat convulsing around his dick. Ash performed some complicated looking maneuvers with his tongue before his long fingers plucked something out of his mouth. 

The cherry stem tied in a knot.

Chris’s hips nudged forward and the only thing keeping him from fucking Ash was the layer of clothing between them.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Chris whispered in Ash’s ear.

“Uh huh.” Ash turned around, threading his arms behind Chris’s neck.

“I’m thinking we need a hands off rule until we get to a room.” Chris hadn’t come in his pants from a little frottage since he was in his early twenties but the heated way Ash was looking at him…he thought he just might combust from the chemistry between them.

Ash smirked. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

Too right, Chris was the boss. He couldn’t wait to show Ash just how bossy he could be.

-0-

Stiles had a difficult time keeping his hands to himself. They were in the back of a taxi, on their way to an upscale hotel, and the guy he was with was hotter than the sun.

Light brown hair cut short but not too short, intense blue eyes, a shy smile, a body to die for and old enough to know how to have a good time…he was Stiles’s ideal partner. He was a silver fox minus the silver hair.

He also had a silver tongue, knowing just what to say to get Stiles’s engines revved.

Stiles scrambled out of the taxi before it had come to a complete stop in front of the hotel. He ordinarily would’ve been embarrassed about displaying his excitement but Silver was hot on his heels. It’s a good thing Silver had passed the driver money when they’d been picked up because neither one seemed to be thinking about those pesky little details now that getting horizontal was just around the corner.

Silver lightly grasped Stiles at the crook of his elbow and guided him toward the bank of elevators.

Either Silver was a guest here or he kept a room exclusively for fucking. Stiles didn’t care, as long as the guy’s moves in bed were as sure handed as they’d been at the bar.

Large hands tugging on his hips had weakened Stiles’s knees. Just the thought of those hands sliding down his front, tugging at his nipples, cupping his balls, gripping his cock, holding him down…Stiles shivered.

Silver looked at him with concern. “Are you cold?”

Stiles licked his lips in nervous anticipation. “Not in the least.” Coy, beyond a smile, wasn’t really in his arsenal. 

The satisfied smirk gracing Silver’s face was something to see. 

Stiles noted the floor they exited on—fifth floor—absently. Just because he was going to get sex didn’t mean he could quit paying attention to his surroundings. Situational awareness was a skillset Stiles depended upon every day but the hormones bouncing around in his body were making it difficult.

Silver swiped the keycard in room 504 and Stiles was enthusiastically pulled through the door. Before he could comment on the speed of their entrance, Silver pushed him against the closed door, boxing him in with his supremely fit body.

“I want to take my time with you but I don’t think I can.” Stiles shivered again at the sound of the low, rough voice. 

“Fast now, slow later.” Stiles’s fingers began to unbutton Silver’s shirt. He had just finished with the last button when he found himself divested of his t-shirt, the material yanked up over his head whether he was ready for it or not.

Stiles managed to toe off and kick his Vans—thank fuck he wore his slip on loafers—because his jeans were soon peeled down his legs. He settled his hands on top of Silver’s shoulders as he stepped out of the constricting denim.

He wanted to return the favor but Silver was kneeling in front of him. Blowing air across Stiles’s boxer-brief covered cock. The surge of blood to that area of his body left Stiles reeling.

_Oh yeah._

Silver looked up at him, blue eyes twinkling in the dimly lit room, and then he pressed his open mouth over the tented area Stiles’s bulge created.

Stiles leaned back against the door, his arms down but hands splayed against the surface for balance. He heard a noise, a low-pitched whine and wondered where it came from.

Silver’s mouth seemed to be busy as it fondled and tongued him through the cotton material.

_Fuck._ Stiles made that noise. When Silver found a particularly sensitive area near the tip of Stiles’s cock, he gave a full body shudder, his hips thrusting forward.

Those large hands Stiles kept admiring pressed against his hips, holding his body in place. That’s what Stiles wanted—someone to take charge of his body.

“Yes, please.” Normally he would’ve been embarrassed by pleading but he needed this so badly.

One hand moved from his hip and squeezed along his length. Stiles banged the back of his head against the door when his body gave another of those full body twitches.

“Easy now. If there’s any bruising to be done, I’ll see to it.”

_Fu-u-ck._

Silver’s hands tugged and stroked and when Stiles’s hips tried to thrust forward, chasing more contact, one of those hands pressed above his waistband, against bare skin. Pushing him firmly until he was forced to remain still.

“Mmmm.”

He hated that he was so vocal but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He had placed himself in Silver’s very capable hands and now he was going to enjoy the ride.

Literally, if he played his cards right.

-0-

Ash was something else. His body was even thinner than his tight clothing had hinted at but it was all lean muscle. This was no gym-rat. Whatever Ash did, it kept him in superb physical condition.

The red boxer-briefs had been a surprise but even more so had been the sizeable dick they covered. It was long—so long the rosy tipped dick peaked out the top of the material—but the girth was more modest according to Chris’s braille impression. The testes were smooth, soft balls inside the baggy scrotum and when Chris squeezed, they expanded in size. Ash’s genitals seemed delicate to Chris’s touch but they sure were responsive.

Ash’s whole body was responsive. 

When’s Ash’s knees quivered (right after Chris pushed firmly against impressive abs to hold him in place) and he made another delicious noise, Chris decided he wanted a flat surface to further his explorations.

Chris began rising to his feet, pushing his right shoulder against the tight abdominal muscles, cradling the long torso and tugging it forward until Ash moved past his center of gravity, tipping gracefully over Chris’s shoulder.

Quickly straightening, Chris folded one arm behind bent knees to hold Ash in place while his other hand massaged the tight buttocks.

Catching a glimpse in the mirror on the wall, Chris admired how Ash draped across his shoulder. The other man wasn’t actively participating in the single shoulder carry as his long limbs hung downward but his hips continued to shift, rubbing his bulge against Chris’s shoulder, sexy moans slipping from that sexy mouth. 

Chris could’ve peeled off Ash’s boxer-brief’s right there and played with his ass.

Maybe later.

Right now he wanted the guy flat on his back so Chris could hold him down while he applied his tongue and hands to the smooth skin.

Bending his knees, Chris leaned forward until the guy slid off of his shoulder and landed on the bed. Chris could see Ash was a fan of the hands-on maneuvering—it was apparent in his dilated pupils, fast breaths and hard dick.

Ash licked his lips. “I, uh, like it rough but I have a physical tomorrow. You can tie me up, hold me down, whatever you want but could you please not leave too many marks? They might be difficult to explain.” His voice was huskier than earlier and he watched Chris carefully, waiting for a response.

The first thing Chris did was adjust himself, his hand trying to move his dick to a less constrictive place, but there just wasn’t one. He was interested in everything Ash had mentioned.

Bruising would’ve been nice—he enjoyed leaving a little a calling card to indicate he’d been there and Ash’s skin would mark up so nicely—but he had some equipment he could use that would restrain Ash without causing questions.

“I’ve got just the thing.” Chris crossed the room to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Of course it was the bottom drawer—that’s where he always kept the devices he used on his bottoms.

He pulled out four cuffs, soft and lined with plush for no chafing, with Velcro closures. He threw them down on the bed next to Ash who was still on his back but had leaned up on his elbows to watch what Chris was doing.

Chris went to each corner of the bed and pulled out restraint straps. They were snapped on to a center strap hidden beneath the mattress and the cuffs would snap right onto the metal rings affixed to each strap. Each strap was also adjustable so that he could arrange his partner however he wished.

He’d remove the strap system beneath the mattress in the morning so as not to arouse suspicion but he was pleased he’d stopped by here before he’d headed out and set things up. Chris hadn’t known what the evening had on tap but fortune had smiled down upon him favorably and he was getting his every little wish in this bed partner.

Deciding how to arrange Ash was going to be difficult because there was so much he wanted to do.

“Are you interested?” Chris made sure to get permission. He didn’t think Ash was a novice but he needed to hear explicit consent.

“Definitely. Red for stop, yellow for slow down and green for all systems go.” The black pupils were eating up the remarkable brown of Ash’s pretty eyes; there was no doubt he was into this.

“Just so you know it’s easy to get out of these cuffs, just unclip them.” Chris had never played with this partner, unfortunately would never get to again either, but he didn’t want Ash to worry.

“Thank you. Now show me what you’ve got. Sir.” Ash’s tone was anything but respectful but this was for fun.

Chris needed this kind of fun.

He quickly stripped down to his own boxer briefs—black instead of Ash’s flashy red—and then he approached the head of the bed.

“Scoot back into the middle of the bed.” He waited until Ash complied. Right arm?” He requested.

Ash held out his arm and Chris wrapped the cuff around it, making it tight enough that Ash would feel the restraint, be able to struggle against it, but not enough to cause harm to the tender pale skin.

Chris drew the arm back so that it was pulled almost directly behind the other man, the strap pulled taut so that his arm was in the air but not high enough to cause uncomfortable pressure on his joints.

He repeated his actions on the left arm and then stood at the foot of the bed, admiring his handiwork.

The position of Ash’s arms pushed his chest forward, thrusting his well developed pectoral muscles out. The areoles were darkening and the nipples were budding. Chris suspected he’d stumbled upon one of Ash’s erogenous zones. 

The rest of Ash was just as appealing with his hair disheveled, bangs drooping, long legs spread before him, dick a hard line in his tight boxer-briefs.

Chris climbed between Ash’s spread legs and lifted his chin. “Here we go.”

He faked like he was going in for a kiss but then he bent his head, lips latching on to one nipple while his fingers pinched the other.

Ash threw his head back and groaned.

Chris had to remind himself he wasn’t supposed to mark up Ash’s pretty skin but it was hard. He sucked and laved and pinched and Ash threw his legs around Chris’s waist and humped him.

His hands slid from fondling nipples, down washboard abs, to cup Ash’s balls through the silky material of his underwear. He exerted enough pressure that Ash arched backward, trying to execute a backbend but stymied by his arm restraints.

Chris slid the silky material down until Ash’s dick sprang free. He yanked them down the suddenly motionless body, throwing them over his shoulder. “Color?”

He needed assurance that Ash was still into this. 

“Green, green, green, green.” Ash chanted while shifting his hips, thrusting his dick upward. “I’m going to get off soon if you keep playing my body like that.”

Okay then. Returning to the bottom drawer Chris withdrew a cock and ball harness made of black leather and silver snaps. He returned to the bed and held it up.

Ash was panting but he shook his head in agreement.

Chris wrapped one leather strap around the clean-shaven balls, gathering them together, before snugging another strap between them and snapping it into place so those pretty balls were separated and firmly held down. Another strap looped around the base of the long dick; Ash would have difficulty blowing his load with all of that pressure around his genitals.

It was the perfect cock and ball harness for what Chris had in mind. He  
wanted to own Ash’s orgasm. 

The ankle cuffs were quickly affixed to slim shapely ankles, pulled apart but with enough give that Chris could bend Ash’s knees if needed. He loosened the arm restraints so he could lay Ash flat on his back although he pulled the restraint straps so that his arms were pulled overhead.

Watching Ash struggle against the bonds, his pectorals thrust forward, was fast becoming one of Chris’s favorite sights.

Although watching Ash’s struggle against the cock and ball harness, the delicious flexing and shifting of hips, made Chris wish he had more time with this man.

Time to wind him up with more bondage and stimulation. Watch him give in to the submission of the act.

The one-and-done rule was in effect for a reason but damned if Chris could remember much about it at this moment.

-0-

Lt. Col. Satomi Ito escorted Stiles personally to the conference room holding the unit he was being seconded to this go around. He knew next to nothing about them except this unit was comprised of four werewolves led by a human commanding officer and Lt. Col. Ito thought Stiles’s Mountain Ash handling skills would greatly benefit them on their next mission.

Stiles followed the short but imposing figure into the conference room, keeping his eyes focused over the heads of the occupants seated around the table, his feet shoulder width apart and hands behind his back at parade rest. He would learn enough about the members of the unit for the sake of the mission but meeting new team members had lost its luster two years ago.

The stout woman kept her attention focused on Stiles. “Specialist Stilinski, I’d like you to meet the pride of the Green Berets, Team Alpha. This is one of threes units tasked with dispatching supernatural threats. Here we have Privates Dunbar and Talbot. Don’t let their baby faces fool you. Across from them are Privates First Class Lahey and McCall who have been with the unit since its inception.”

Stiles’s focus swept around the table, slowly, not trusting his hearing. He catalogued Dunbar and Talbot who each gave a welcoming nod. Lahey scowled at him but that wasn’t necessarily anything new; Stiles was used to being the odd man out. McCall…yeah, it was that McCall, the one and only Scott McCall; his one time best friend who had disappeared after being turned into a werewolf during a mission, never to be heard from again. At least not by Stiles.

Stiles had written him off as not having surviving the bite so he was definitely taken aback to realize the man was very much alive. Hale and hearty even. 

Apparently Stiles just hadn’t been worth the effort of staying in touch with he guessed. 

Fighting to draw air, Stiles worried his self-control would crumble. He had to dig down deep to keep his face blank and his breaths even. There wasn’t anything he could do about his thundering heartbeat and unfortunately all of the werewolves in the room could hear it. 

Lt. Col. Ito touched his elbow, pulling his attention away from the shit show his life had turned into. Her face was serene but her head was cocked to the side as if puzzling out the problem. “I saved the best for last. Please meet the CO of Alpha Unit, Major Argent. I think you’ll be a fine fit with the unit, in fact if things work out I might see if I can pry you away…”

Stiles sought out the man sitting at the head of the table. 

Nope, it wasn’t a mistake; it was the man from last night—Silver, who had made Stiles rethink his love ‘em and leave ‘em sexual philosophy—staring back at him. 

_Fuck his life._

Stiles took a small measure of pleasure in the fact Silver aka Major Argent turned pale and gaped at him for a moment. Stiles was able to raise an eyebrow and smirk at his new CO. He tuned out Lt. Col. Ito’s words while he considered his current predicament. 

The funny—funny as in ironic, not funny ha-ha—thing about this was Stiles was pretty sure he could’ve taken his fuck from last night being his temporary CO in stride, even finding the humor in it, but also being saddled with McCall…that was asking a bit much. 

His hearing moderated so that he could parse Satomi’s words again. She was praising Stiles’s record and smiling widely as she bragged about being able to scoop him away from Delta Force for this mission.

Lahey whispered beneath his breath although Stiles could still hear him. “Delta must’ve lowered their standards if they let him in.”

Dunbar and Talbot—Stiles wasn’t sure who was who but he thought the shorter one was Dunbar—glared at Lahey. These were the two soldiers Stiles planned on sticking with if he had to interact with the unit.

Stiles kept his eyes away from the other two occupants in the room

Satomi clapped Stiles’s arms, eyes twinkling. “Stiles, you need medical clearance through Doctor Vandenberg and then Major Argent will read you in on the op.”

Stiles saluted her with a solemnity he rarely showed. He was usually the wise cracking asshole interloper but Lt. Col. Satomi Ito had crossed paths with him at a very trying time in his career and it was she who had set him on his current path—Delta Force Specialist with the ability to stretch Mountain Ash beyond its usual capacity. Not bad for a loner with no magic and little else to recommend him.

Ignoring the voice of his former best friend calling his name, Stiles followed his mentor from the room.

There would be time enough later to figure out how to navigate around that landmine of long buried feelings. With a little luck this op would be over and Stiles would be on his way to his next assignment without having to interact one-on-one with McCall.

Stiles wouldn’t mind interacting with Silver again but the threat of someone claiming quid quo pro harassment against the commanding officer if he were to engage in some sort of relationship with an NCO was a real one. Stiles wouldn’t ask that of the other man even though he would love a repeat performance of the previous night.

The real kicker was that as mind blowing as the sex had been—possibly the best Stiles had ever had—it was the snuggling afterward that had burrowed into his heart.

-0-

“We’ll meet back here at thirteen hundred hours for a full briefing. Dismissed!” Chris said. Everybody in the unit rose to their feet as one. Chris cleared his throat. “McCall, a moment please.”

Even through his own surprise/dismay/longing at the sight of their temporary team member, Chris had catalogued McCall’s unease with Specialist Stilinski. It sounded like Satomi had referred to him as Stiles. Stiles Stilinski, that was one helluva handle. In any event Stiles’s response to McCall could only be classified as cold. Chris certainly didn’t pretend to know Stiles well—up until ten minutes ago he’d only thought of him as Ash—but his reaction was at odds with the relaxed, charming young man he’d met at the bar last night.

Isaac filed out last, glancing over his shoulder first at Chris and then Scott. Chris folded his arms, telegraphing his impatience at the foot dragging.

Once the door was closed, Chris motioned the remaining soldier to sit back down. “Is working with Stilinski going to be a problem?” Chris didn’t ask what the history was there between the two of them. If Scott wanted to volunteer it that was fine—and of course Chris really wanted to know—but first and foremost he needed to know if the team’s dynamics were at risk.

Scott opened his mouth and then promptly shut it. A line formed between his brows, a sign the younger man was thinking things over. Chris appreciated the thought Scott was giving this matter. Although they were professionals, no one could afford fucking up this mission. 

Something had to account for the level of icy hostility Ash, oops, make that Stiles, had displayed toward Scott. Perhaps there had been some sort of monumental falling out? It was hard to imagine Scott McCall holding anything against anyone for any length of time. He was terminally upbeat and excessively optimistic. That meant the problem most likely lay with Stiles. He didn’t know the guy other than his preferences between the sheets, or in their case on top of them, but it just didn’t seem to fit.

Rubbing his jaw, Scott slouched forward in his seat. “Stiles and I, we were tight. Like brothers. Then this happened,” Scott pulsed his eyes and held up a hand, claws growing quickly from his fingertips, “and they told me I couldn’t talk to anyone I used to know.”

That…actually explained a lot. Stiles being Scott’s former best friend also explained Isaac’s abnormally high level of jackassery. It could be his protective nature, or jealousy, but there was no denying Isaac’s greeting had been less than welcoming. 

Scott’s conflict was genuine. He didn’t like hurting anyone but hurt Stiles he definitely had.

Stiles was a passionate guy whether Chris thought of him as Ash or his actual nickname. He would be crushed to think something had happened to his friend. Finding out the friend in question was fine, better than fine, would not sit well.

At least Liam and Brett seemed happy with the addition of Stiles. Chris also found himself looking forward to spending time with the young man. Even if it couldn’t go any further.

“Do you still talk to your mother?” Chris asked. He wasn’t judging, he was just trying to figure out what was going on here. He was pretty sure Scott had remained in touch with his mom, even received baked goods from home and shared them with the unit, bragging about her prowess in the kitchen.

Scott yelped. “Well, yeah! I mean it’s my mom, of course I talk to her.” He then hung his head like a scolded puppy. “I should’ve gotten back in touch with Stiles after I joined your unit. I just wasn’t sure what he’d think of, you know, me.”

If someone had ordered Scott to sequester himself, the young man would try his hardest to comply. That’s just who he was. Something made Chris think Stiles would tell someone to fuck-off if they ordered him to stay away from his friends and loved ones. No wonder there was hard feelings, and coldness, between them. 

Of course Chris was just guessing since his only experience with Stiles boiled down to the best night of sex Chris had had in, well, maybe ever.

He really needed to stop thinking about sex with the younger soldier and concentrate on his job.

Chris walked up to Scott and squeezed his shoulder. “I think it’s pretty apparent he doesn’t have a problem with werewolves. Maybe you two can clear the air while he’s seconded to our unit. In the mean time I have to ask—can you work with Stiles or are you going to have a problem?”

Rubbing his jaw, Scott answered. “I can do my job. As long as Stiles doesn’t give anyone in the unit any grief like the last two guys, it’ll be okay.” Scott raised his head and made eye contact. He seemed calm, maybe even resigned. “I just wish things had turned out differently. Stiles was going through a bad time two years ago. His dad had just died and he had no family. I was his family. Me up and leaving when I did must’ve done a number on him.”

Stiles Stilinski was a bit more complicated than their first meeting had led Chris to believe. Although his personal feelings didn’t have any room in this, not when it came to the wellbeing of his unit.

This whole situation sucked. It sucked as hard as Stiles had sucked him last night…

_Stop it!_

“I can do this.” Scott said he could work with Stiles and Chris believed him. 

The question was whether Stiles was going to screw up the chemistry of the team. The last two guys, although able to manipulate Mountain Ash, seemed to have a clear mistrust, or flat out hostility, for werewolves. It had been bad enough Chris was worried violence could break out and that wasn’t even counting their mission objectives. Everyone’s nerves had been strung a little too high, Chris’s included. Hence his desire to lose himself in a distraction resulting in his…whatever you called his relationship with Stiles. But having Stiles on the team, even for a short assignment, couldn’t be a distraction. Not for anyone.

“Why don’t you catch up to the rest of the guys, get something to eat? I’m going to check in and see how Specialist Stilinski is doing with medical.” Chris clapped Scott on the shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” Scott stood up and headed for the door. Before he exited he paused, looking back at Chris. “I’m a little worried about Stiles. He doesn’t look well.”

“Like I said, I’ll check up on him. It’s probably just the stress of being bounced from unit to unit.” Chris didn’t actually believe what he said, he was pretty sure the stress was a result of facing Scott again as well as finding out his CO for this mission was someone who’d freshly fucked him.

It was a recipe for disaster but maybe Chris could head things off before they deteriorated further.

Chris nodded at the personnel he passed in the hallways on his way to medical. He was walking by the exam room Dr. Deaton worked in when he recognized that low, husky voice. What was Stiles doing with Deaton? Satomi had told Stiles to report to Dr. Vandenberg. Deaton was definitely not Vandenberg. 

“I said no. N. O. I do not give you consent to draw my blood. Not after what you pulled with McCall.” Stiles’s voice was low and soft. Dangerous sounding. 

Chris stayed in the hallway just outside of the doorway. He didn’t really want to eavesdrop but this wasn’t a good moment to interrupt.

“Stiles, I didn’t keep you away from Scott to hurt you. I was trying to keep—”

“The balance. Fuck you and fuck your balance. Sir.” Stiles had the audacity to interrupt the doctor and the stilted _sir_ he tacked on was a laughable nod at the other man’s seniority. 

Chris silently cheered; he had to agree with Stiles on that point. The doctor was a little too blasé about certain things but he was the foremost expert on werewolves so Chris tended not to challenge his less than helpful information parsed out on Deaton’s timetable. 

The expert rallied. “Listen to me, there was more at stake then you realize. There still is. I just need a sample—” 

“Yeah. No. Still don’t care. I’m well aware of that druidic bullshit you try to peddle but I’m not buying it. I don’t trust you. I’m certainly not going to give you access to any of my bodily fluids. Who knows what the hell you’d do with it.”

“It’s not like that. You’re annemer, that means—”

“Thanks, I know what that means.” Stiles’s patience seemed non-existent. Chris was certain that didn’t sit well with the doctor.

“Then you know it means you shouldn’t be able to stretch the Mountain Ash like you do. There has to be a scientific reason and it needs to be explored. Besides, you can’t refuse my medical care.” Deaton persisted despite Stiles’s resistance. 

Stiles heaved a sigh. “Actually I can. If we were in the field I couldn’t refuse but here, where there are other physicians available, I certainly can. I’m going to mosey on down the hallway and visit Delta Force’s doctor. Per Lieutenant Colonel Ito’s orders.”

Chris entered the room to find Stiles walking toward the door. Deaton was fast approaching on Stiles’s six, something in his hand. 

Warning bells sounded loudly in Chris’s head. 

Swooping forward, Chris grabbed Stiles, spinning him around, pushing the other man behind him. He glared at Deaton. “What’s going on here?”

Whatever had been in Deaton’s hand disappeared, most likely into a lab pocket. In fact it was done so smoothly it made Chris doubt he’d seen anything. Then again Deaton was a master of subterfuge. 

The doctor cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Specialist Stilinski was just leaving.” 

Deaton’s face was burning a bright pink. Chris had never seen the man so discombobulated before. It would’ve been humorous if not for the trembling man at Chris’s back.

Chris’s arm was still wrapped around Stiles, awkwardly trapping the younger man’s chest against Chris’s back. A highly trained soldier like Stiles didn’t require Chris’s intervention against a doctor but Stiles leaned into his heat, a clear signal the younger man was also off kilter. 

Chris’s protective instincts increased ten-fold. It didn’t help that Chris’s own body was interpreting that heat, the body pressed against his own, as something else.

“Come on, I’ll escort you.” Chris barely recognized his own rough and gruff voice. 

Deaton turned his back, disappearing into the office at the back of the exam room. Chris took this as his cue to guide Stiles out of the room.

“Stiles, I was just coming to look for you. You were due for your physical fifteen minutes ago.” A man in a white lab coat carrying a clipboard approached them. 

“Sorry, Doctor Vandenberg. There was a screw up with the assignment.” Stiles sounded subdued. The polar opposite of the young man Chris had met the night before in The Beacon tying knots in cherry stems with just his tongue and teeth.

“This shouldn’t take long.” The doctor stared at where Chris’s hand was wrapped around Stiles’s biceps. He looked up and made eye contact, smiling faintly. “Thanks, Major Argent. I’ll see that Specialist Stilinski gets back to you in one piece.

The man was shorter and slimmer than Chris but his voice held a note of authority and perhaps censure. Dr. Vandenberg obviously knew Stiles and would look after him.

“Stiles, please find me in the mess hall when you’re done here.” Chris reluctantly dropped his hold on the other man. 

“Yes, sir.” Stiles snapped off a smart salute but the previously vibrant young man looked wilted. Even his bangs drooped limply over his forehead as though exhausted.

Chris made a mental note to request the doctor’s report on Stiles. He told himself he would do the same for anyone joining the unit. It had nothing to do with the fact he’d already met Stiles and become intimately involved with him. Worried about him, too.

At least one thing had been accomplished—Chris found himself thinking of the other man as Stiles and not Ash. Stiles was a unique nickname and it certainly suited him. 

Chris rubbed his forehead. This intersection of his professional life with his personal was giving Chris a headache.

-0-

Stiles felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. The scene with Deaton had made him nauseous and Dr. Vandenberg scolding him for being underweight hadn’t settled his nerves any.

Usually Stiles enjoyed being deployed on a mission but this was going less than smoothly and he wasn’t sure he physically could withstand more stress without losing his shit.

Entering the mess hall, Stiles quickly found his temporary CO at a table near the back of the room sitting alone. Dr. Vandenberg’s harangue about needing to halt the weight loss had Stiles detouring to the food counter where he selected a vanilla Boost High Protein shake. He was the farthest thing from hungry but he was definitely thirsty and this way he could kill two birds with one stone.

Approaching the table, Major Argent waved off his salute and invited him to sit down.

Huh. Wasn’t argent French for—?

“What are you thinking?” The man in question was staring at him, eyes bright with curiosity.

Fuck it. “Doesn’t argent mean silver in French?”

“Yes, yes it does. Why?” The major was being very accommodating here. Or maybe he was trying to figure out if Stiles needed a psych eval to go along with his physical.

They were relatively secluded so Stiles decided he would disclose his thoughts. “When we first, uh, met I thought of you as Silver. You know, silver tongue and silver fox.” He could feel his face heating up with embarrassment.

The man’s serious face suddenly creased into a smile. “In the interest of full disclosure I’ve got to tell you, I nicknamed you Ash and here you are, an expert at handling Mountain Ash.”

“Why Ash?” Stiles wasn’t following that one at all. Sexual partners through the years had called him many things but ash wasn’t one of them.

It was Argent’s turn to look embarrassed. “My daughter used to watch a cartoon and you reminded me of a character.”

“Your daughter. Watched Pokémon. Does that mean there’s a Mrs. Argent?” It wasn’t any of Stiles’s business but he’d rather not be contributing to someone breaking their wedding vows.

“Mrs. Argent is no longer in the picture.” Chris pointed to his ring finger and not only was it bare but there wasn’t an indentation or tan line signifying one had recently been worn.

_Thank fuck_. It shouldn’t matter, there was no future for the two men, but it somehow gave Stiles hope.

Stiles’s heart accelerated and he told it to simmer down. He was certainly not going to engage in sex with his CO. At least not until the man was no longer his commanding officer.

“Do we need to talk about last night?” Argent’s expression wasn’t giving anything away. Stiles would hate to play poker with him. 

“No, sir. I’m just here to do my job and then I’ll be returned to my unit.” Of course Stiles didn’t add he’d probably be fantasizing about Silver the whole time. Argent filled out his uniform in a way that kept Stiles’s attention. He decided to roll with it since in a few days he’d probably never cross paths with the man again.

It was kind of sad, actually. 

“Fine. Then let’s talk about the mission. Are you going to have a problem working with McCall?” Argent pinned Stiles in place with just a look from his icy-blue eyes. 

“No, sir.” Stiles had no plans of talking to the other soldier unless it was related to the mission so it shouldn’t be a problem. 

Stiles just needed to keep reminding himself of that and ignore the ache in his heart. His mother and father hadn’t willingly left Stiles but apparently his so-called brother couldn’t leave him in his rearview mirror quick enough.

Nope, no abandonment issues here. Quit rubbernecking and move along.

Argent no longer had his poker face in place. No, instead Stiles read…no, no way. _Pity._

“I need to stop at the armory. Are we done here?” Stiles channeled all of his thoughts into the mission, a mission he still knew jack-shit about except Satomi thought his Mountain Ash handling skills would come in handy. If so, that meant Stiles needed to top off his supply.

Argent didn’t look pleased but he grudgingly dismissed Stiles.

Stiles was already several steps away from the table when he heard the other man. “You forgot your drink.”

No, more like Stiles forgot his damn plan—don’t make any sort of connection with those around him and he couldn’t be hurt. 

His long legs double-timed it until he left the mess hall safely behind him.

He needed to avoid both Argent and McCall if he was going to make it through the next few days. No easy feat since he could literally be living in their pockets depending on the mission.

-0-

Chris scrubbed his hands over his face. He supposed that talk could’ve gone worse.

He at least knew Stiles had called him Silver last night and in turn he had referred to Stiles as Ash. Silver and Ash. It was pretty damned funny.

Except for the part where it wasn’t.

Someone cleared a throat and Chris looked up to find Deaton standing there. “May I join you for a moment?”

Chris would’ve loved to say no but he wanted to know what the doctor wanted. “Have a seat.”

The man took a sip from his cup and Chris recognized the scent of Chamomile tea.

Interesting. Chamomile tea was known for its relaxing properties for those suffering anxiety. Apparently Deaton hadn’t been unaffected by his dust-up with Stiles.

Either that or he just liked the taste of Chamomile. Ugh.

“I wanted to give you a little background about my relationship with Specialist Stilinski.” The man seemed sincere but then again he always seemed sincere. 

“I think I got the gist of it, thank you. When McCall was bitten you advised him to sequester himself and that meant he needed to cut ties with Specialist Stilinski. Now, thanks to you, I have a unit that is out of balance.” Chris squelched the self-satisfied smirk threatening to break the impassive lines of his face.

It wasn’t often he got the upper hand when it came to dealing with Deaton. Scott put a lot of faith in the doctor, as did the rest of the team, but Chris had never attained that level of trust in the werewolf specialist.

Watching Deaton with Stiles earlier, Chris was pretty sure he never would trust the man. He wasn’t sure what to do about it though. 

Deaton’s mouth flexed into what might pass for a tight-lipped smile. Or gas. “Quite. I’ll let you get to it then.”

The dark skinned man smoothly stood to his feet and left the mess hall.

Chris sipped from his rapidly cooling cup of coffee.

“Major Argent, could I have a word with you, please?” Dr. Vandenberg had a cup of coffee in hand, clipboard tucked between his ribs and arm.

“Of course. Is this about Specialist Stilinski?” Chris shouldn’t be this interested in the seconded member of his unit but he found he couldn’t stop himself. 

Dr. Vandenberg nodded his head before he picked up the bottle of Boost. “Let me guess, this was Stiles’s meal?” He gave the bottle a little shake.

“Yes. He went to the armory before he could finish it.” Chris wasn’t sure what to make of the line of questioning.

The doctor rolled his eyes and snorted; Chris didn’t think he’d ever seen the other man behave in anything less than a completely professional manner. Did Stiles have this effect on everyone he came in contact with? 

The doctor set the bottle down. “Not only didn’t he finish it, he didn’t have any of it. I’ll be frank with you, Major Argent. Stiles is underweight, over-stressed and I thought about denying him physical clearance for this mission but Satomi said it’s vitally important. In fact he’ll be trialing a new piece of weaponry for us.”

 

“Will I receive information about this new piece of weaponry?” Chris  
disliked surprises out in the field.

“I’m afraid it’s need-to-know so that’s up to Lieutenant Colonel Ito.” Dr. Vandenberg didn’t seem very pleased about whatever was going on.

Since there wasn’t anything Chris could do about this new weapon he focused on the other part of the message—the part where Stiles was underweight and over-stressed.

He hadn’t even known Stiles twenty-four hours but he’d repeatedly thought the guy was on the thin side—maybe too thin side as his fingers had run up and down visible ribs although he certainly wouldn’t be disclosing that information—and he’d witnessed the way Stiles had almost become unglued when interacting with Deaton. 

“What can I do for Stiles?” First and foremost Chris needed to make sure the soldiers under his command were in peak condition.

Dr. Vandenberg’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Chris. Maybe it was because Chris had referred to the Specialist by his nickname. The man finally answered him though. “I want you to send Stiles to me if you observe anything worrying.” 

“Do you know about the history between Stiles and Deaton?” That was something Chris had observed and found worrying.

The man sitting opposite of him grimaced. “I do. I’m monitoring the situation closely.” With that Vandenberg rose to his feet and excused himself.

Chris didn’t have time to press for details as the man disappeared out the exit. At least Chris was left feeling pretty certain Vandenberg was firmly in Stiles’s corner, which put him at odds with Deaton.

If anyone could go toe-to-toe with Deaton, Chris thought the slim, spry doctor could pull it off.

Chris glanced at his watch and realized he had five minutes to report back to the conference room.

His shoes smacked against the tile floor as he hustled back to his unit. Everyone was present except Stiles.

As if reading his mind, the younger man entered the room before Chris could even sit down. Stiles was pale but looked resolute as he moved to the side of the table where Liam and Brett were sitting. Both men smiled up at Stiles as he walked by. Stiles’s lips turned up in greeting although Chris could see the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Isaac scowled at the newest member.

Scott smiled across the table until he realized Stiles wasn’t going to look his way and then his lips turned down into a frown.

“All right, this mission is very straight forward. We have the coordinates of a factory manufacturing weapons of mass destruction and we’ve been tasked with blowing it up.” Chris explained the basic parameters of the mission.

Scott chimed in. “And our involvement is because the factory is run by werewolves?”

“Very astute, McCall.” Scott glowed under the praise. 

Brett raised his hand and although this wasn’t a classroom, Chris nodded at the young man to speak. “What are our individual assignments?”

“I was just getting to that. So this is what I want you to do.” 

The next hour went by in a blur as Chris parceled out assignments and fielded questions.

They were moving out at fifteen-hundred hours, which gave the unit enough time to suit up and report back for duty.

The tension between Scott and Stiles was as thick as what was between Isaac and Stiles. Chris could only hope once they deployed, things would settle down.

Glancing at his watch, Chris decided he had enough time to get something for his headache. 

It was days like this that made him think he was getting too old for this shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're here for the sex, that takes a backseat to the action in this installment. But there's a lot going on here so I hope you enjoy it.

The transport truck bumped down the pothole-pocked road, Stiles hanging on to the Jesus handle above him to keep from falling off of the bench seat.

It wasn’t the most relaxed unit Stiles had ever been around before a mission but he wasn’t sure whether to attribute the atmosphere to pre deployment jitters or the tension between Scott, Isaac and himself.

Stiles rolled his eyes. Who was he trying to kid? It was definitely the latter.

The truck was unnaturally silent so he engaged Liam, who sat next to him, and Brett who sat across from Liam, in a discussion regarding their destination. It bordered on idle chitchat since the whole team had been briefed on their destination but it was a nice distraction from Scott’s puppy dog eyes and Isaac’s death glares.

Stiles managed to keep his eyes averted from Chris who sat directly opposite of him. The man was sex on two feet in his fatigues and black t-shirt, muscles flexing every time he did something, driving Stiles insane. Panting after your CO was not acceptable behavior.

Turning his attention back to Liam, who seemed to have acquired a bit of hero worship, was the best course of action. The youngest member of the unit might think Stiles was something special but Stiles wasn’t fooled; it was primarily due to the mystique surrounding Delta Force, the crème de la crème of elite forces, but his Mountain Ash handling abilities and his sense of humor made him the temporary new thing. 

Of course Isaac was ready to skewer Stiles and it should’ve bothered him but he really couldn’t care less. Scott and Isaac could continue to be besties without Stiles’s interference. 

Scott sat next to Liam but he leaned forward to get a glimpse at Stiles.

Stiles paused in his discussion about the effect humid temperatures had on Mountain Ash to make eye contact with his former friend. “Something I can help you with Private First Class McCall?”

The solder scowled, turning his attention back to Isaac.

Stiles felt like he was back in second grade, the rules of engagement beyond him so that he was left friendless and lonely. 

It was just one more reason Stiles would be happy when this mission was—

_Pop!_

The truck flipped over on its side and Stiles, despite hanging on to the handle above him, couldn’t stop his forward motion as he crashed into Chris.

There was a cacophony of noise to accompany the shuddering and tumbling of the truck and when they finally settled, Stiles felt as though he’d been put through a blender. Of course Chris had cushioned that initial tumble so Stiles was in decent shape, bruised but no broken bones.

He wasn’t so certain the same could be said for Chris who hadn’t made a sound after that initial oomph upon impact.

Someone opened the door and light, although dim, lit the interior of the truck. 

“Someone blew the tire out. We need to go after them.” Isaac’s tone was angry but then he always sounded that way to Stiles.

“Why don’t you guys fan out and see what you can find. I’ll take care of Major Argent and check on the driver.” Stiles couched it as a question but he seemed to be the senior member of the unit at the moment.

Isaac, of course, took issue with his suggestion. “Fuck you, you’re not my commanding officer.”

Brett, the most unassuming member of the unit, manhandled Isaac out of the truck. 

Scott dove out of the truck after the two soldiers, placating Isaac.

“You going to be okay?” Liam asked. There was a cut on his head that was bleeding sluggishly but with his healing abilities it should be slowing soon.

“Watch their sixes, okay? I’m going to see what I can do about extraction. Someone definitely was trying to make a statement.” Stiles withdrew his combat First Aid kit from his cargo pants, looking for the gauze he needed for the gash on Chris’s head.

“I’m on it.” Liam brushed Stiles’s arm carefully and then headed out into the fresh air and sunshine.

Stiles ran through his first aid protocols, making sure Chris had an unobstructed airway and his heartbeat was regular. Once he was assured of that he set about treating the bleeding head wound. He didn’t like the way Chris’s eyelids hung at half-mast or the fact he wasn’t making any noise, not even groaning or cursing.

Things outside were quiet so Stiles stepped outside, gun in hand, and moved toward the front of the truck. The private who had been behind the wheel—Stiles never did catch his name—hadn’t fared so well in the crash. His neck was bent at an impossible angle; Stiles consoled himself that at least he’d most likely not suffered great pain.

Stiles used the communication device in his wristwatch to call in their location. He looked around, hoping he wouldn’t have to activate the other feature embedded in the snazzy wristwatch. 

He’d been eager to put this mission behind him but this hadn’t been the outcome he’d been expecting. 

Chris needed to be okay. If he wasn’t…Stiles knew better than to borrow trouble but he’d never been lucky before when it came to the safety of those he cared about.

He’d tried telling himself he didn’t care about Chris but he’d been lying to himself.

-0-

Chris tried to ignore the ruckus—his head ached like he’d been on a bender and he craved quiet—but when the noise didn’t abate, he was forced to crack his eyes open.

The smell of bleach. White sheets and blanket. Beeping of heart monitor. 

Hospital.

“What the ever fucking hell is wrong with you?” Stiles hiss-whispered.

“I must restore the balance.”

Chris attempted to focus his eyes but his vision was too blurry. He knew the voice but he couldn’t quite put his finger on from where.

Something about balance rang a bell.

“I can’t believe this…balance this, dipshit.” Stiles’s tone was aggravated. Chris missed the flirty tone from the other night. The husky, sated tone of his lover.

There was a tremendous crash, maybe furniture being overturned, and then someone joined the party. “What’s going on here?”

Chris recognized that voice without a problem. Scott McCall was hot and it took quite a bit to get a rise out of him. Chris wished he felt better; he’d like to see how Private First Class McCall handled a fight in a hospital room.

“Well? Stiles? Doc?”

Doc? Oh, Dr. Deaton. Mr. Balance himself. Or was that Dr. Balance?

There was another scuffling of feet and then merciful quiet.

“Hey, Chris, how are you feeling?” Stiles was bending over him and Chris’s vision finally cleared enough to read the worry in the other man’s soulful brown eyes. 

There was a hushed conversation going on near the door and then silence.

Stiles’s long fingers gently grabbed on to Chris’s hand and squeezed. That’s right, he’d been asked a question. “My head definitely hurts.”

“The doctor should be here in a minute.” Stiles continued to pet Chris’s hand. Something about the contact made him feel better.

“I thought I heard a doctor. What was going on?” Deaton had been here and he’d been harassing Stiles again. 

Stiles snorted quietly. “Deaton’s more like a witch doctor. I don’t trust him. At all. Dr. Vandenberg’s been assigned to your case.”

Chris might have a concussion but he didn’t miss the way Stiles avoided his questions about Deaton. Something was going on and Chris would eventually untangle it. 

First he needed to convince Dr. Vandenberg that shining a penlight into his eyes was not helping his killer headache.

-0-

Stiles exited Chris’s room after Dr. Vandenberg threatened to have MP’s remove him, not because he was causing a problem but because the doctor said Stiles needed food and rest.

Shoulders slumped, head down, Stiles’s forward movement was halted as he bumped against an immovable object: Scott McCall.

“Now’s really not a good time.” Stiles couldn’t think when would be a good time but he knew right now, with his reserves running low, wasn’t it.

“Well make time.” 

Stiles’s chin came up at the rough tone of voice. “What do you want?”

“Come on, I heard Doctor Vandenberg tell you to eat so I’m taking you to the mess hall. We can talk there.” Scott wrapped his hand around Stiles’s upper arm and towed him through the hallways. Stiles lacked the energy to do anything except stumble along in his wake.

Scott settled Stiles at a table and Stiles rested his eyes for a moment—no, he did not fall asleep—and then Scott was back with a tray full of Stiles’s favorite comfort foods. There was a grilled cheese sandwich, banana pudding, chocolate chip cookies and curly fries.

Curly fries.

Scott hadn’t forgotten that Stiles preferred curly fries to any other food.

Stiles just about put his head down on the table’s surface and wept. Of course doing that would’ve slowed down his eating frenzy. Cramming a hand full of the fries into his mouth, Stiles sighed as he chewed.

Scott sat there, trying to keep a look of revolt from his face, ever patient. It had been too long since Stiles had eaten anything and he didn’t even slow his intake until the sandwich and fries were gone.

“Thank you.” Stiles’s voice was quiet but he was sincere. The offering of curly fries alone meant Stiles would listen to what Scott had to say. At least up to a point and hopefully Scott wouldn’t cross it. “What did you want to talk about?”

“There’s a lot but can we start with Deaton? Why did you have him thrown out of Major Argent’s room?” Scott’s eyebrows were beetled in concentration.

“Doctor Balance himself has been after me to give him a blood sample and this time he went a little too far. There’s a pending court-martial according to Doctor Vandenberg.” Stiles’s level of exhaustion was becoming impossible to ignore now that he had some food in his belly. His eyelids dipped over his eyes but he picked up the pudding and spoon.

“Doctor Balance?” Out of the things Stiles had said, that was what Scott found important. Huh.

“He was so busy trying to balance things between annemer and supernaturals that he did a lot of harm. Don’t take my word for it, that’s according to Doctor Vandenberg. I thought Deaton was a creep and I didn’t want him getting his hands on any of my body fluids. Especially not after that crap he pulled when you got turned.” Apparently being exhausted removed all of his brain-to-mouth filters.

“What did he do?” Scott reached across the table as though he was going to touch Stiles’s hand but Stiles flinched backward. His one-time best friend looked gutted.

Stiles realized despite the offering of curly fries, they had a long ways to go. He still tried to explain what was one of the more depressing periods in his life. “Deaton wouldn’t tell me what happened to you. He wouldn’t even tell me if you were dead or alive. I just about lost my damned mind when you disappeared and he nearly drove me to suicide. If he’d just told me you were alive and didn’t want to see me, I would’ve, I don’t know, maybe been able to move on.”

The kicked-puppy-dog look was back in full force. “I didn’t know. He said I couldn’t get in touch with anyone and when I asked him about you, he said you’d moved on.”

Stiles snorted. “Sounds like Deaton.”

“Stiles, I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to leave you but he made it sound like you didn’t want to be around a werewolf. I should’ve known he was wrong.” Scott hung his head.

“Yeah, you should’ve.” Stiles whispered, his throat suddenly tight. 

At least he knew Scott hadn’t wanted to abandon him, he’d just been manipulated into doing it. Not great but definitely better.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles put down the pudding and reached across the table, snagging Scott’s hand with his own. He gave it a brief squeeze before he pushed back from the table and climbed to his feet. “I’m glad you’re okay, Scotty.”

Stiles weaved across the mess hall and headed back to Chris’s room. He’d had something eat so now it was time to follow doctor’s orders and get some rest.

In the chair next to Chris’s bed.

-0-

Chris had been discharged from medical but he hadn’t been cleared for the field yet.

“Hey, you ready to blow this pop stand?” Stiles leaned against the door, pale skinned and bloodshot eyes, but still grinning.

“I was ready yesterday.” Okay, perhaps a slight exaggeration.

Stiles rolled his eyes at Chris, weighing in non-verbally.

Non-verbal was definitely the way Chris would like to communicate with Stiles right now.

Wait.

Where did that come from? 

Chris’s dick chubbed in his pants. Being around Stiles made him feel like he was twenty years younger.

“Do you maybe want to go somewhere and talk a little?” Stiles suggested. The words weren’t laden with sexual innuendo but Chris’s body did not seem to understand that. He idly thought maybe he should talk to the doctor about concussions and sex because he didn’t think this was normal.

“Let’s see if Conference Room B is open.” That’s where his unit usually held its meetings.

Where Chris had laid eyes on Stiles for the first time after their night of hot sex.

The two men were silent as they navigated down the hallways.

At least they reached their destination and Conference Room B was open for another hour according to the schedule posted outside of it.

Chris secured the door once they were inside.

Stiles raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“So Doctor Vandenberg said he had Deaton arrested.” Chris was pretty sure he knew how Stiles would feel about that and he was right; Stiles’s flashed a rather vulpine grin that might’ve made Chris worry for the man’s sanity if he didn’t know there was history there.

“Yeah. Scott interrupted Deaton trying to take a blood sample forcibly from me and that was enough for Doc Vandenberg.” Stiles leaned back against the conference table, hands tucked into his pockets, looking loose and relaxed.

Loose and relaxed except for the telltale bulge in the front of his fatigues.

“How did Scott take the news? I know he and Deaton were relatively close, as close as anyone could be to the druid.” Chris hadn’t seen Scott for more than a minute so he hadn’t had the chance to make sure the solider was doing okay with all of the upheaval.

“I think Scotty was more disturbed when he found out Deaton wouldn’t tell me if he was dead or alive and the smarmy bastard had the gall to tell Scott that I had moved on. As if.” Stiles withdrew his hands from his pockets and folded his arms across his chest.

Chris ached to sooth the tension in the younger man. 

“Are you two friends again?” It wasn’t any of Chris’s business except he cared for both men.

“We’re working on it.”

Stiles kept his attention on the floor at Chris’s feet. 

Chris approached slowly until he stood right in front of Stiles. He put two fingers beneath Stiles’s chin and raised his head up. “Hey, are you okay?”

Stiles dropped his arms to his sides. The dark smudges beneath his eyes told the story of not enough sleep and stress.

“I was worried about you. I’m glad you’re okay.” Stiles’s hands clenched into fists.

Chris had lots of ideas about how to address Stiles’s stress levels but none of them were safe for work. There was also the whole quid quo pro aspect of their relationship.

“Hey, after the mission do you think you might want to go for a drink?” It was still against regulations but after the shitty last few days, Chris didn’t care.

“If drink is code for something else, yeah.”

For now that was enough of a promise to get Chris through. He hoped it was the same for Stiles.

-0-

The mission had been delayed but in Stiles’s opinion it should’ve been scuttled.

Chris—make that Maj. Argent—was still recovering from his head wound. Maybe things would’ve been different if Chris had been in the thick of things, snapping out orders, instead of being forced to hang back.

Stiles at least would’ve felt better in the man’s stabilizing proximity. That wasn’t even taking into consideration their post mission plans; Chris just made him feel more secure.

The team was in disarray and Stiles watched for opportunities to turn the tide but so far things were not in their favor. As they’d approached the factory, they’d run into a pack of what Stiles thought were mutant werewolves. Too large. Too fast. Too scary. Too many.

Liam and Brett simultaneously engaged the one called Deucalion, one soldier attacking high while the other went low. 

The head alpha’s back was unguarded as Scott approached from behind. With one well-placed jab of the claws, this whole thing could be over. With Deucalion out of the picture the playing field would be leveled and no one else had to be hurt or—

Scott ‘s features relaxed back from his shifted form to human. “Please, don’t do this. We can work together to find a solution.”

Stiles wasn’t the only one who groaned in disbelief. 

The demon wolf smiled as he sidestepped away from the ineffective combination of Liam and Brett. It was a particularly wolfish smile and a shiver snaked down Stiles’s spine.

“Scott, what the fuck are you doing?” Brett hissed. He’d given voice to Stiles’s exact thoughts. 

“You are right, I don’t have to do this.” The werewolf now faced the three standing members of Alpha Unit. 

Scott nodded. His optimism was sweet if misplaced. 

“Give peace a chance? I think not.” Deucalion shifted yet again—Stiles didn’t even know there was a shift bigger, and more ugly, than the hybrid shift, but damn it there was—and the mutated werewolf unleashed a combination of slashes that had his team reeling.

Stiles dropped down from the tree branch but Deucalion had already dispatched Liam, Brett and Scott so he was ready. With one well-placed swipe of his meaty paw, Stiles was sent flying. 

Ears ringing and vision blurry, Stiles lost critical moments of the fight. Moments during which the werewolves named Ennis and Kali rejoined the fray.

Once his senses cleared, Stiles rolled to his knees and hunkered down at the base of the tree he’d been thrown against. As usual the mission had gone FUBAR and Stiles didn’t see any way out of things except to use the surprise waiting within his wristwatch.

If he was going to get bitten, and it seemed as though that was likely, he planned to take out this alpha asshole.

Reaching into the right pocket of his cargo pants, Stiles withdrew the last ammo egg in his arsenal. It was called an egg since it resembled a plastic Easter egg but instead of candy, this egg was filled with Mountain Ash.

“Is that your last little gambit, my dear boy? How very tragic.” The British accent would’ve been sexy except the guy was a total douche. He gave Jackson Whittemore back home a run for his money when it came to douchery. In fact both males had those high, slashing cheekbones and were unfairly attractive.

The blond haired mutant werewolf threw his head back and cackled. The vocal cords on the thing must’ve shifted, too, because the sound made Stiles’s ears ache and his chest vibrated from the noise.

Definitely a douchenozzle of the first order.

Stiles surveyed his options one last time. That hulking giant, Ennis, pinned down Liam and Brett. 

Scott was fighting it out with Kali, someone who had clearly never considered cutting her toenails as a part of her basic hygiene regimen.

An injured Isaac sprawled behind Scott.

At least Chris was away from the action. Stiles could only hope he’d been able to subdue Thing One and Thing Two.

“What’s it going to be, little ash handler? Are you going to save the boys on the right, the boys on the left, or yourself? Time is ticking.” The wide grin replete with dimples morphed into the parody of a smile with fangs jutting out from an elongated snout.

Stiles staggered to his feet. “None of the above, asswipe.” He broke the egg open and split the contents between both hands. Before Deucalion could lay a finger on him, Stiles launched the Mountain Ash into the air.

One ring of ash landed around Ennis. The other settled around Kali.

The two major threats to his team members had been neutralized.

“That’s impossible.” The demon wolf growled, stalking toward Stiles.

“And yet it happened. Adjust your reality accordingly.” Stiles attempted his own growl but his back and ribs hurt from where he’d collided with the tree and it was little more than a grumble.

“Stiles, run!” Liam’s voice was getting closer. On one hand Stiles was heartened someone was trying to come to his rescue but on the other Deucalion would slice and dice Liam like a Ginsu knife laying waste to a tomato.

“You are dead, little human.” At least Stiles thought that was what the werewolf snarled at him. The saliva-coated fangs didn’t exactly enhance communication, creating a lisp that might have been amusing in another situation. Definitely not amusing as Stiles stared down his own death.

‘No!!!” A body barreled into Deucalion after telegraphing his approach through that warning. It gave the demon wolf time to turn, his claws stretched out, embedding into the chest of Stiles’s would be savior.

Scott. 

The raw gurgle told its own story. Scotty was dying. Again.

“Not this time, mother-fucker.” Stiles snatched the Gerber Mark II out of the sheath at his ankle. It was like firing a peashooter for all the damage it would do against Deucalion but he needed to get the werewolf away from Scott.

Abandoning stealth, Stiles launched himself at Deucalion. Before he could plunge the knife into the werewolf’s back, the alpha turned.

Stiles was smacked out of the air like a lazy fly by a swatter. At least this time he was pounded downward instead of flying through the air into another tree.

Dropping the knife, Stiles activated the switch on his watch. Numbness spread through his wrist, up his arm, and toward his core. This was a Russian roulette kind of weapon but if Stiles could save the team and take out the freak show in front of him, he could live with it. 

Or not live as the case may be. Although Stiles had every reason to live now so he sure hoped this wasn’t his last hurrah.

Before Stiles could do anything more, Deucalion was on him. Sharp pain tore through his body at the juncture of neck and left shoulder.

Footsteps approached although Stiles didn’t have the energy to turn his head and look.

Liam and Brett were circling Deucalion. Trying to draw him away from Stiles.

Deucalion yanked Stiles upward until their eyes met. The alpha’s eyes pulsed bright red as he stared at Stiles.

Then a curious thing happened. At least it was curious to Deucalion and the members of Alpha Unit who were still standing. Deucalion’s eyes dulled, turning back to bright blue. His tight grip on Stiles’s biceps eased up.

“What have you done?” The werewolf shook Stiles but even that lacked the power of an alpha.

Black lines squiggled from their point of origin, Deucalion’s mouth, and spread outward. It didn’t take long until the werewolf shifted back to his human form, the unnatural pallor striped by black like sharpie on a sheet of paper. Black vines on a white canvas.

Understanding dawned in the demon wolf’s eyes. 

Someone tugged Stiles away from the werewolf. He wasn’t sure what happened next, both his hearing and his eyesight tunneling down until Stiles’s awareness blinked away.

-0-

Chris sat next to the hospital bed, his laptop on a tray table nearby if he got the urge to do paper work. Right now the only thing he could focus on was Stiles.

He’d be standing vigil for any of his team members but Stiles was different. The young man had roused in the Airvac back to HQ, shaking off the medics and even Scott’s touch, fumbling until he gripped Chris’s hand and squeezed. 

If Stiles didn’t make it…Chris couldn’t bear to think about it. As it was Chris was trying to figure out a way to keep Stiles. Not just in the unit, but in his life. Maybe even resign his commission if that was the only way to stay together.

Another night of drinks and bondage games wasn’t going to be enough.

First Stiles had to recover. Rehab for his shoulder promised to be a bitch but Stiles was young and strong, he could do it. Right now Chris thought the biggest threat was the wolfsbane poison circulating through his system. 

God damn the brass and their failsafe ideas. No one had advised Chris his newest team member had what amounted to a ticking bomb poised to explode at the flick of a button on his watch. The concentrated wolfsbane had been injected into Stiles’s bloodstream so when Deucalion took a bite out of him, the out of control werewolf received a fatal dose of the poison. 

Stiles received it, too.

Dr. Vandenberg was using a form of dialysis to remove the impurities from Stiles’s body. It was a race to see if the filtering would work before the heart arrhythmias caused by the toxin was too much for the soldier’s weakened system.

Stiles was so much more than a soldier. He was a loyal friend. A generous lover. A beautiful submissive. Chris wanted the chance to spend time with the man. Take care of him if Stiles would let him. 

Cherish him.

The monitors beeped a warning and Chris’s heart rate spiked with a  
flood of adrenaline. This had been going on the whole time Chris had been in the room and each time Chris was convinced Stiles would crash.

“Status,” cough, “report?” The scratchy voice was more hoarse than usual due to the intubation needed to keep Stiles breathing when his body became exhausted. 

“Stiles, you’re awake!” Chris could’ve smacked himself on the forehead; of course Stiles was awake because he was talking.

Chris cleared his throat while he fumbled for the call button. “Doctor Vandenberg will be here any moment to give you the details but you’ve got one hell of a wound on the left side of your neck. Your body is fighting off the wolfsbane poison. You’re damned lucky to be alive.”

“Can’t believe it. Thought I’d never see you again.” The last was delivered in a whisper and Chris detected moisture tracking down the side of Stiles’s face.

Leaning over the injured man, Chris carefully thumbed the tear tracks, drying them tenderly. “Just try and get rid of me.”

‘But—”

“Shhh. We’ll figure it out.” Chris soaked in the lopsided smile and wet brown eyes. He took Stiles’s hand in his own, massaging the extremity. Maintaining touch seemed extremely important at the moment.

Footsteps were approaching rapidly but for once Chris didn’t withdraw. Stiles needed his full support and Chris wasn’t going anywhere.

“Specialist Stilinski, it’s a pleasure to see you wake.” Dr. Vandenberg approached the bed, not missing the hovering presence or its significance if Chris was any judge.

The doctor didn’t say a word to Chris, he just nodded a greeting with a slight smile.

“Doc, can I have some water?” Stiles whispered. His voice did have that gargled on crushed glass quality to it and it made Chris’s own throat ache hearing it.

“How about if Major Argent spoons you some of this crushed ice? We’ll progress to water shortly I’m sure.” The doctor waited a moment but when Chris didn’t move he bustled over to the tray table and retrieved the cup himself. “Here.”

Chris had to relinquish his hold on Stiles’s hand to receive the cup and spoon. It was either that or he would’ve dropped them as Dr. Vandenberg pressed them forward without much warning. That elicited a smirk out of the doctor, an upgrade from the slight smile Chris supposed.

“You, my dear Stiles, are a very lucky man.” Vandenberg announced as he studied the screen displaying Stiles’s vitals. “The dialysis is clearing the wolfsbane nicely and if you continue to improve at this pace, I’ll be able to take you off of it in a day or two.”

With his right thumb, Stiles pointed toward his left shoulder. “The bite?”

The smile faded from the doctor’s face. “You’ve sustained damage to your trapezius muscle, which if you’ll remember from your anatomy class can cause difficulty in moving the neck, shoulder and due to the severity of the bite, even your left arm. We can address the pain but you’ll need therapy to regain mobility.”

The doctor paused and let that sink in for a moment. Chris split his attention between the doctor and Stiles, trying to figure out the subtext of the conversation.

Stiles closed his eyes and took some deep breaths. “Say it, doc.”

“Stiles, why don’t we wait to run some tests first. We can talk about this later. In private.” Chris didn’t know the doctor well but he’d never heard him so subdued before. He was another one of those glass-half-full people but even he couldn’t sugar coat this.

Chris had been so busy worrying Stiles wouldn’t live that it hadn’t even occurred to him that Stiles might be facing a medical discharge. He’d wanted the younger man, wanted so very badly to explore a relationship with him, but not at this price.

“Just say it.” Stiles wasn’t going to let the doctor off the hook.

The other man moved from the foot of the bed up near Stiles’s damaged shoulder. “I’m very sorry, Stiles, but in my opinion it looks like this is an injury you won’t be able to come back from, at least for medical clearance here. That’s not to say that you won’t regain most of your mobility and strength, but the amount of damage you sustained will probably impact your range of motion to some degree.”

Dr. Vandenberg reached across Stiles body and squeezed his good shoulder very lightly. Stiles lifted his lids and made brief eye contact with the doctor and from Chris’s angle he could see the tears threatening to fall.

“I’m going to leave you two alone for a while. Chris, you can give Stiles as much of the crushed ice as he’d like. If you need me, just hit the call button, otherwise I’ll be back in an hour to check on my favorite patient.” With one last squeeze, Dr. Vandenberg left the room. His shoulders were slumped and his head was down; Chris didn’t doubt for a moment the man had been telling the truth when he’d said Stiles was his favorite patient.

Chris couldn’t ease Stiles’s heartbreak over his injury, and the unknown future, but he could help address his thirst. “Come on, let’s try this ice out. You’ve got to be parched.”

Stiles blinked up at Chris. He nodded and parted his mouth so Chris dipped the spoon into the melting ice chips and held them out in front of Stiles’s mouth. It took a bit of maneuvering to get the ice into Stiles rather than on him but his lover moaned as the moisture coated his mouth.

In the past that same moan had been enough to get a rise out of Chris’s dick but right now, staring down at the very injured man who had saved his unit, Chris just wanted to hug him.

Chris still couldn’t believe the danger Stiles had put himself in to save the members of Alpha Unit. Especially when he remembered Scott had passed on an opportunity to take down Deucalion. Chris didn’t like to dwell on what ifs but that had been a game changer, and not in a good way. In the near future Chris would need to address this lapse. He wasn’t in a frame of mind to be making these kinds of decisions but he didn’t think the young werewolf was cut out for this unit.

But that was for later. Right now his sole focus was on Stiles. 

After a few minutes, Stiles’s lids began to droop, his lids remaining closed for longer periods of time before rising again. 

“Why don’t you close your eyes? I’ll be here when you wake up.” Chris removed the spoon but bent over brushing his lips against the drop of moisture clinging lovingly to Stiles’s full lower lip. 

Stiles flailed his good hand in Chris’s direction, latching on to his arm. “Promise?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Chris didn’t care what happened, he was going to plant his ass in the chair next to Stiles’s bed until they physically booted his ass out.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles presented himself before Chris as requested—clean, inside and out, and pubic hairs finely trimmed. He vibrated with excitement.

It was their one-year anniversary of having officially been together and tonight Chris had suggested they celebrate in the manner in which they’d first met—with some raunchy sex. Stiles was completely on board with that idea.

“Strip.”

Stiles quickly pulled his gray t-shirt over his head and shed his jeans and boxer briefs. He wasn’t wearing socks or shoes so he was ready to go in less than sixty seconds. Not that he was eager or anything.

Chris knelt down in front of him and Stiles had to take a deep breath to ground himself. The suspense wasn’t killing him but he was already deeply aroused.

Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat, Chris pulled a length of red material out of his pocket. In a deep growly voice, his lover talked about what he was doing. “This is smooth Italian silk and it’s a premium soft spun with plenty of tooth but it also has stretch.”

Stiles didn’t know his ties but he thought Chris used an overhand knot at the end of the rope, wrapping it around the base of Stiles’s cock and balls. He could feel the give in the material; it felt delicious and he shivered into the sensation.

Chris did something with the loop and Stiles felt pressure under his balls. It was snug but comfortable. It resembled the feeling of being wrapped tight in a blanket like a burrito. The tension Stiles hadn’t even realized he was holding in his upper body relaxed.

“I’m using the heaviest strand available because it will distribute force across your skin more evenly to avoid cutting into your flesh.” Chris rumbled as he continued to work with the cord. 

Stiles couldn’t see what was going on from his vantage point but it felt like Chris pulled the cord under Stiles’s balls and crossed them in the back. Stiles grew dizzy as Chris wrapped the material around and around. He sighed when the cord moved upward, his lover lifting his cock, wrapping the material around his penis. 

Stiles concentrated on breathing in and out as Chris continued to bind his genitals. It was both relaxing and stimulating. All of his nerves were on high alert and yet he wanted to stretch his limbs, maybe nap.

Stiles lost track of time until Chris began to speak again. “The Italian silk can be bulky when you tie knots. I see what they mean.”

His eyelids flew upward as Stiles glanced downward. Chris was sitting back on his heels and that gave his cock ideas. However, the pale skin of his balls and the head of his cock peaked between red material and it held his burgeoning desire in check. He supposed a little cock and ball restraint was an excellent idea if he wanted to last longer than five minutes.

The somewhat bulky knots drew his attention and Stiles’s breathing became heavier. He might not be able to come but he was definitely turned on. 

“Here, step into these.” Chris held out a pair of black shorts. They actually resembled compression shorts, the kind that hugged every part of the anatomy while highlighting that anatomy.

Stiles licked his lips. There was something so sensual about tight clothing restricting his body’s needs even while he could still move his limbs. He’d never told Chris how he’d felt; the other man just knew what made him tick.

Putting his hands on Chris’s shoulder for balance, Stiles stepped into the shorts. His partner snugged them up, tugging and smoothing so they lay flat. 

If Stiles hadn’t been bond so tightly he might’ve come right there just from the glorious feel of everything. 

Next Chris rose to his feet and guided Stiles over to the mirror covering the wall. Chris turned him to the side so they could both admire the bulge in Stiles’s shorts. His respirations were quickening and his pupils were dilated. He might’ve felt self-conscious except Chris’s body was having the same reaction.

Chris reached out and cupped the bulge, squeezing. Stiles reeled in place and a moment later he found himself facing the mirror, Chris’s front plastered to his back, his partner helping keep him upright.

It was Chris’s large hands that reached around Stiles’s waist to settle over his swollen crotch. Stiles leaned back and enjoyed the massaging, rubbing and squeezing.

“Come on, I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.” If Chris’s voice lowered any more he was going to move out of the audible range. It was delicious sounding and Stiles shivered again.

Chris wrapped an arm around Stiles’s waist and led him to the king sized bed. “Kneel on the end for me.”

Stiles carefully climbed on to the bed, shifting his weight until he was kneeling. 

His lover quickly buckled a leather harness around his waist, just above where the compression shorts ended. Stiles could tell it was good quality because the material didn’t chafe his skin when he flexed against it. 

Chris tugged the compression shorts downward without warning. “Mpph.” Stiles almost toppled over from the force of the tug. 

“Sorry, almost there. Spread your legs a little wider. That’s it.” No easy task with the compression shorts hobbling his movements from where they bunched around his thighs.

He glanced down and saw there was an O-ring hanging from the leather harness in the front, set in the dip below his belly button. The cool metal was noticeable against his flushed skin. Something cool nestled at the top of his waist above his butt crack, too.

Stiles zoned out until Chris whispered in his ear. “A little pressure.”

Something slid into Stiles’s asshole. “Oh!” He straightened up as the device slid deeper. It was a plug. 

Chris reached around him and slid something through the O-ring. He threaded the strip of material—more of the red Italian silk—over his snuggly wrapped cock and balls and between his spread legs. 

The compression shorts were lifted back up and settled in place. With a little light pressure on a shoulder, Chris settled Stiles back until his butt rested on his heels.

The plug inside of him shifted, the rub catching his attention, even as something—a knot—pressed against his taint. “Mmmm.” Stiles hummed his approval. He couldn’t find the words to express how content he was.

There was more rustling and light tugging and then Stiles guessed the material was fastened to the matching O-ring at the small of his back.

Stiles closed his eyes again, concentrating on the way the tight shorts cinched over the smooth swath of material clinging to his cock and balls, tugged here and there by well-placed knots.. He imagined the bulge in his crotch. 

He settled into the stillness.

-0-

It had been twelve long months but Chris was in the mood to celebrate. 

He had been decommissioned and he and Stiles were now embarking upon a new venture. Together. They had started their own consulting business, specializing in supernatural problems, and it was both an invigorating and stressful time for them both.

Chris wanted to celebrate by pleasing his lover. He’d picked up on cues here and there and between what turned him on, and what turned on Stiles, he thought this would be a night to remember.

It already was as far as Chris was concerned.

The red Italian silk looked fantastic against Stiles’s pale skin although as soon as Chris had started weaving it’s magic, the skin had turned from pale to a bright flushed pink.

The compression shorts had been a stroke of genius on his part—he could’ve probably just put Stiles in those and his lover would’ve settled right into that place he retreated to when he was highly aroused while his movements were slightly restricted. A place without worry or fidgeting. 

Chris found it unbelievably sexy. He put Stiles in that place and it made Chris feel like a goddamn rock star. Or a god.

Giving in to the urge to touch his lover, Chris lightly palmed the front of Stiles’s shorts.

“Mmmm.” Stiles turned his head and nuzzled into Chris, eyes still closed, relaxed in a way he seldom was outside of the bedroom. 

It could’ve been all of the binding beneath the shorts but Chris didn’t think so; Stiles’s cock was as hard as it could get despite the way his balls were held away from his body by the length of material. Chris hadn’t been striving for too much restriction. A gentle binding to slow down any release and that binding was sexy as fuck on his lover.

Chris enjoyed the slow build of sexual tension until his body was vibrating with need. It was a good thing he’d put on a cock ring himself otherwise he’d be shooting like a teenager right now.

Chris peeled out of his clothing so that he could more fully enjoy the next part of the evening.

“Stay nice and relaxed for me, okay? I’m going to move you now.” Chris whispered his instructions. He waited until Stiles nodded his head.

Widening his hands he settled them on Stiles’s waist. He shifted the lighter man upward before settling him on all fours.

Stiles gasped at the movement. “Easy now.” Chris rubbed his hand down Stiles’s flank, careful to avoid the silk strung through the O-rings. They were engaging in a slight bit of predicament bondage if Chris had rigged things right.

Every time his lover moved the silk would shift. That would not only jolt the prostate massager but it would put pressure everywhere the silk rested. 

Chris climbed on to the mattress from the side and settled closer to the head of the bed, sitting up with his legs spread out. He raised his arms and beckoned Stiles to him. “Crawl to me.”

Stiles shifted his weight, gasping again as he moved first his left hand and then right knee forward in a slow shuffle. Chris was pleased to see the damage Deucalion had inflicted to Stiles’s shoulder and neck weren’t impeding his lover’s fun. Chris had planned around those still tender places when he’d thought about this evening.

“Chri-is.” Stiles panted. His face glistened with sweat and fully dilated pupils obliterated all vestiges of the beautiful whiskey brown in his eyes.

No wonder Chris had likened Stiles to Ash in that cartoon. What were those characters called with the big, oversized eyes and sexualized bodies? Anime. Stiles had turned into an anime character and Chris couldn’t wait to debauch him.

“Come on, Ash. Crawl to me.”

His beautiful Ash shuffled forward a few more steps, tottering like a newborn foal, before his arms collapsed, dropping his chest to the bed.

The muscular ass so at odds with the rest of Stiles’s thin body, remained up in the air. Ash’s—yes, Chris knew it was Stiles but he was going with the anime idea—hips flexed, twisted and then settled into a slight humping rhythm. Chris pictured the silk pressed between ass cheeks, rubbing against the tip of the prostate massager, causing all sorts of havoc. Maybe next time they’d forego the shorts after all.

Chris took a deep breath before he adjusted his junk. He was going to blow in the next five minutes if the heat pouring off his body was any indication.

Speaking of heat, Ash was setting him on fire. The rocking hips were creating a duet with the sweet noises spilling from the open mouth. 

Rustle. Moan. Whoosh. Sigh.

Chris’s patience left him in a rush of adrenaline. “Ash, now!”

The rocking body tried valiantly to comply but the legs gave out, the enticing rump finally lowering to the bed in slow motion. Chris knew the silk would be bringing pressure to bear against the bond cock, sensitive taint and that didn’t even take into account the shifting of the prostate massager.

His sweet Ash lifted his tear-stained face and tried to army crawl. The motion seemed to overcome him and his upper body fell back to the bedding followed by the heavy head.

Stretching a hand out, Ash warbled, “Silver. Help.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus. 

Chris rolled to his hands and knees, cock and balls bobbing, and moved the few short feet to his lover. “Tell me what you need.”

“My…and the tension…pressure…against…everything…” His lover couldn’t form a coherent sentence. “Need.”

There was one more surprise in store for Ash but first Chris catalogued the vision before him. The silk bondage was for his lover’s benefit but watching his lover’s submission…that was for Chris.

Long legs trailing behind the torso, spread as wide as the compression shorts allowed. Hips continuing to jolt in tiny back and forth rocks, the red silk whooshing softly as it shifted against material. A pretty pink face turned to the side, staring at Chris. Begging him for help.

Chris remembered the ‘happy knot’ he’d added when threading the silk between parted legs. It was just a few overhand knots but Chris had positioned them against Stiles’s perineum.

The rub of the happy knot against the taint added to the struggle. Struggle was key here. It was the sweet submission Chris craved. So did his lover.

Chris observed the full body struggle apparent in Ash’s slow, exaggerated movements. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do.

“Okay, just close your eyes. I’ll take care of you.”

Leaning over the side of the bed, Chris retrieved the positioning mount. It measured twenty-four inches long, which meant his anime lover’s torso and hips would be supported and he could comfortably rub his crotch over it. The mount was only nine inches high but since his lover’s body would be collapsed it should provide more friction than his lover could take at the moment. 

It was the fifteen-inch width that intrigued Chris the most. He couldn’t wait to see Ash’s thighs parted around the black velvet covered foam mount as he pleasured himself.

Lining the mount up in front of the collapsed, but still swaying-rocking-twisting body, Chris grabbed on to what amounted to two leather handles on the harness. 

His lover groaned, limbs dangling, as Chris lifted him and swung him forward.

Ash clung to the roll with his hands as his legs straddled the mount’s girth.

His boy didn’t have an ounce of tension in his body, except for maybe in his genitals. 

Chris knelt next to the body draped over the mount, his fingers plucking at the silk where it peaked above the waistline of the booty shorts.

“Ohhh,” his lover moaned, hips jolting. Ash ground his body against the velvet, hips rubbing side-to-side and then back-and-forth.

There was one more surprise. Chris pressed his palm over his own erection, willing himself not to spill yet as he flipped the switch on the mount.

The entire mount jiggled with external vibration as the sex toy hidden within the casing sprung to life.

Ash flexed his whole body, even his toes stretching and pointing behind him. He lifted his long neck, picking up his heavy head to stare up at Chris. The motions were barely perceptible but Chris noticed the twisting drag forward as his lover’s hips slowly writhed against the trembling roll between his legs.

Fuck. Chris had never been so turned on in his life.

Licking his lips, Ash panted, “Silver,” in a soft, dreamy sigh before the blown pupils rolled up into his head. The relaxed body wilted forward over the rolled form, body still jolting at the mercy of the vibrations.

Chris was on the brink of orgasm but he wanted to come inside of his lover. He had to resort to the emergency scissors, quickly cutting the shorts away.

It was like unwrapping the best present ever.

The red Italian silk was snipped next. Chris had thought all of the tension in his lover’s body had already fled but without the pressure against the prostate massager, Ash’s lower body settled deeper against the mount. The jiggling mount continued to stimulate although with his lover temporarily over come, it was Chris who was feeling its influence.

“Silver’s here. You can let go now, Ash,” Chris growled as he positioned himself behind his lover. He pulled the anal plug out of the tight passage. He’d coated it extra well with lube and he hoped that was enough as his dick wanted in that passage right the fuck now.

Chris pulled the pliant man backward to the end of the mount. Ash groaned and the noise went right to Chris’s cock as he unsnapped the ring binding his balls and peeled the cock ring off.

It was a smooth entry but Chris barely got to enjoy it before the top of his head—both heads—blew off. The orgasm had him seeing stars and he rested his chest against the back of his Ash, licking a strip across the back of his neck.

The vibrations of the mount were nice but Chris was ready to hold Stiles in his arms. He fumbled with the switch and when the movement ceased, Stiles sighed.

Rolling upward, Chris hooked an arm around Stiles’s waist and pried him upright, onto his knees, away from the mount. He balanced the man’s weight against his chest as he fumbled with the damp silken material encasing Stiles’s genitals. It was damp.

They’d both gotten off. 

“Are you okay?” Chris asked as he tumbled the mount back over the side of the bed before lowering Stiles back to the bed and pulling him into his arms. They both needed to rinse off but he’d waited a long time for this moment.

“Mmm. Best. Night. Ever. I guess I missed Silver,” Stiles mumbled as he buried his face against Chris’s shoulder. “Thank you, Chris. That was…beyond words. You’re perfect.”

Chris hugged Stiles closer against his chest. For the first time in a long time, things seemed to be coming together and Chris felt a sense of peace he’d been missing his whole life.

-0-

Stiles brushed Chris’s shoulder with his own as he shifted on the couch. He was in a bit of a weird headspace—he’d prefer to be home cuddling with his lover—but running a business meant holding meetings even when you weren’t in the mood.

Allison flashed Stiles a smile. He was relieved Chris’s daughter didn’t have a problem with the May-December relationship her father was in. Or the fact that Stiles was male instead of female. 

In fact Allison fully accepted things, was downright enthusiastic, and had asked to join the business. 

“So I hear you’re into metal working. I have to admit I was thinking jewelry or something but Chris showed me the wolfsbane infused silver bullets you made. You’re incredibly talented.” This was Stiles’s contribution to the small talk and he must’ve hit on the right topic because Allison’s face split into a huge grin. She really was gorgeous although since she was Chris’s daughter that came as no surprise.

“Dad and my Aunt Kate taught me the basics but I realized once I got the chemistry down I could alter the metals to give them other properties,” Allison explained.

Chris threaded his arm behind Stiles’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. Allison’s smile turned up a notch at the gesture. 

Scott frowned.

Stiles parted his lips to ask Allison another question and Scott interrupted. “Um, Stiles, could I see you in the kitchen for a moment?”

Making his excuses, Stiles followed his friend into the other room. He didn’t particularly want to leave Chris’s side but his friend was giving him the eyebrows and the pleading eyes signaling he wanted to speak privately.

“What’s up, Scotty?”

The other man leaned up against the counter and folded his arms. “What’s up with you today? You seem kind of…spacey.”

Stiles blinked his eyes hard. Nope, not a mirage; Scott was staring at him. Questioning. Judging?

“I, uh, didn’t know I was spacey. Just one of those days I guess.” Stiles shrugged. His skin seemed both too tight and too loose and if he had to describe the feeling he guessed he’d say it felt like he was standing both in his body and next to it. His consciousness seemed a bit…stretched.

“He did something to you, didn’t he?” Scott moved away from the counter and approached Stiles like he was a creature about to bolt.

Scott’s nostrils flared and he inhaled.

Weird.

_Oh._ Did you just sniff me?” Stiles quirked up one eyebrow in disbelief.

“You smell weird.”

“Well you look weird.”

“I’m being serious here, Stiles.”

Stiles huffed. “I can see that. What I don’t understand is where this is coming from.”

“I’m worried about you.” Scott was turning his big, brown puppy dog eyes on Stiles. 

Rolling his eyes, Stiles frowned at his friend. He wasn’t sure where this concern was coming from or what to do with it either. “You know I’m a consenting adult, right?”

Now it was Scott who huffed his annoyance. “Duh.”

“So what is it you want to know? You’re not really looking for a blow-by-blow description of what we do behind closed doors, right?”

Scott pulled a face replete with grimace. “No. I definitely don’t want to know. But he ties you up and does stuff to you. That’s not normal. I don’t want to see you hurt. I mean it’s you…and him…and I guess I don’t understand it.”

Stiles took a deep breath to center himself. “Here’s the thing, Scotty. You don’t have to understand it. It would be nice if you could support me. You know, like I support you dating the daughter of my boo. That kind of messes with my head a bit to be honest because I started seeing Chris first but I want you to be happy so I’m good with it.”

“But Chris is, um, mature. He’s used to giving people orders. I see the way he looks at you. He treats you right, right?” Scott brows were smushed together, a sure sign he was in deep thought.

“He treats me exactly right. I’m super fucking happy with him. Isn’t that enough?” Stiles’s arms were crossed. It was partially a defensive posture but it also kept his arms from reaching out and smacking his friend. He wanted to believe that Scott was just concerned for his wellbeing but it was misplaced and offensive.

Scott gestured with his hands. “But you smell all weird. It’s not right.”

Dropping his arms to his sides, Stiles rolled his shoulders. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here. You know, Scott, I like having you in my life again.”

His friend’s whole countenance lit up. He broke out the dimples and his even white teeth flashed. Scott and Allison made a stunning couple with their glossy dark hair, flawless skin, deep brown eyes and dimples they wielded as weapons.

Stiles lowered the boom. “But I’m pretty sure I could get used to not having you around again if you have an issue with my relationship.” It was difficult to keep his tone even, and also not to dig into their history of Stiles having felt like Scott abandoned him, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere by flipping out and flinging accusations.

Scott did his impersonation of a landed fish, cheeks puffing out, arms flailing around as he digested Stiles’s words.

Allison appeared in the kitchen. “Hey, I thought I’d start pulling out the food…um, what’s going on?”

Stiles brushed a kiss against Allison’s cheek, smiling at her. He liked her both as Chris’s daughter and as a friend. Smart. Capable. Beautiful. Scott had his hands full with this one. 

Clearing his throat, Stiles shrugged. “Just clearing the air I guess. Is there anything I can take out for you?”

Allison smiled back, dimple in her cheek flashing. “I’ve got it. Go keep my dad company, will you?”

“I’m on it.”

Stiles left the tension of the kitchen behind him. Chris was sitting on the couch, looking a bit uncomfortable. Stiles stood in front of him. “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Chris smiled up at Stiles. His breath caught at the man’s beautiful blue eyes. He loved everything about this man. “I thought you’d ditched me for someone else. I still saved a spot for you though.”

Stiles ignored the space next to Chris and instead slid into his lap, wrapping his arms around his lover’s neck. “You’re never going to get rid of me.”

The doorbell rang and Stiles heard Allison answer it, greeting the rest of their team. His friend Danny. Allison’s friend, Lydia, and Lydia’s boyfriend, Jackson. 

The same douche-tastic Jackson from school. At least time had mellowed the guy out a bit. Or maybe that was just Lydia’s influence. Stiles knew he’d never cross the redhead; she was scary.

Allison herded everyone to the dining room table. This was a brunch-slash-business meeting being hosted at Allison’s apartment so Allison got the meeting underway. 

Danny’s report was fast: “I’ve acquired some new tech I’m eager to trial. Everything is up and running from an IT standpoint.”

Danny took care of all of their tech needs and he was awesome. Stiles knew he’d gotten their recruitment off to a solid start the day he’d signed Danny to the firm.

Scott and Jackson took turns updating everyone on their status after the last job. Jackson was also some sort of werewolf and he and Scott handled reconnaissance out in the field. The guy was still a bit pompous and Stiles kind of filtered out a lot of what they said. He knew Chris was listening and would fill him in later if needed.

Allison grinned when it was her turn to report. “I’ve been experimenting with infusing the bullets with some other substances. I’d like to set up a test on some liver subjects.” She sought out Scott and Jackson with her attention.

Jackson cringed. Scott smiled but it was weak. 

Allison was a force to be reckoned with. She maintained all of their weapons and kept the reconnaissance team in line. 

Stiles had dubbed Lydia the high priestess of communications although he’d never said it to her face. The woman launched into an explanation of some new communication devices she’d obtained. Everyone was suitably impressed; Lydia accepted that as her due. 

Chris and Stiles were assigned to logistics, which sounded impressive with all of the coordination required but it really came down to making sure everyone had everything they needed whether it was the right clothing, equipment or snacks to get the job done.

Stiles waved off the opportunity to speak, abdicating the chore to Chris, who ran through the new purchases they’d made for the reconnaissance team to wear in the field.

Allison cleared her throat. “I know we talked about adding an advertising slogan to our website but I think I’ve come up with something even better. I propose we adopt a code for our business: We Protect Those Who Cannot Protect Themselves.”

Stiles practically knocked over his glass of orange juice in his haste to pick it up. “I propose a toast to the staff at Silver-Ash. We protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

A chorus of ‘hear, hear,’ and ‘cheers’ filled the room as everyone clinked whatever glass was handy with whomever they could reach.

The focus had shifted from eliminating targets and had morphed into keeping humans and supernaturals safe. 

Stiles for one couldn’t be happier. He had a new mission in life and a partner who understand it, and him, completely.

And Scott should thrive under this approach. He’d been a failwolf when it came to the harsher aspects of combat but here he’d be able to focus on protection instead of killing.

They still had a little ways to go in rebuilding their relationship but with the even-tempered Argents riding herd on both of them he thought their friendship would flourish given time.

-0-

Chris looked around the dining room table. It was a tight fit but all seven of them surrounded the round cherry wood structure, chatting about the last job they’d completed, polishing off the mounds of food Allison had made for them.

The business portion of the meeting was over and after Allison’s code had officially been adopted, everyone was in high spirits.

Stiles seemed relaxed and happy but he was uncharacteristically quiet.   
Chris kept an eye on him but nothing seemed amiss other then he looked like he would benefit from a nap. After they were done here, Chris would take him home and coddle him. 

No sex, just gentle touching. Being close. Seeing to his lover’s needs.

Chris reached out and squeezed the back of Stiles’s neck lightly. Sometimes he couldn’t keep his damn hands off the other man.

“What do you think, Chris?” Lydia interrupted his thoughts.

Chris smiled wryly, shifting his focus to the woman. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that. I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

Lydia smirked back at him. He rolled his eyes at her. Chris never rolled his eyes before he’d met Stiles. It was unprofessional behavioral but Chris conceded sometimes the situation warranted it.

“You’re right, Allison. They’re adorable together.” Lydia smiled and it was her natural smile, not the one that said she was contemplating eating her opponent’s head or other body parts to prove her superiority. 

_Busted._ Chris supposed if they were going to indulge in public displays of affection he needed to take any commentary about it in stride.

Scott cocked his head to the side, staring first at Stiles and then at Chris. Something was going on between the two of them but Chris wouldn’t do anything to intervene unless it affected the business.

Chris wanted to care for his lover, smooth his way when possible, but he didn’t want to be a parental unit to him. There was no need to fight Stiles’s battles for him; Stiles was impressive and could take care of himself and everyone else, too.

Except when it was Chris’s turn to take care of Stiles.

The meeting broke up and everyone helped clear the food. Handshakes and hugs were exchanged.

Scott hugged his best friend extra long, whispering in Stiles’s ear.

Stiles punched his friend in the arm but laughed.

Problem resolved.

Working with this crew was effortless. Working with Stiles was that and so much more.

Silver and Ash.

Partners.

Partners in more than one sense of the word. 

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> I had so, so much fun writing this fic. Apparently all of the times I wanted Peter to take control of Stiles and do _things_ , and failed, I managed to get Chris to do in this story. 
> 
> I'll be posting a chapter a day, three chapters in all, and while I'm doing that I'll be posting my two final stories for this bingo card--a Peter and Stiles outing (law enforcement) and Derek and Stiles in a more satisfying conclusion to last year's story, _Hello, My Name is Human_.
> 
> Thank you for reading this story!


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